Dreams Of Home
i guess i always wanted to be,
the gristled old man whose life
is folded up in the pocket
of his coveralls...
who sits with the small boy,
teaching him to whittle,
unfolding stories like chewing gum.
who fixes the kite,
finds the lost dog...
and builds the fire
on a winter's night....
who, staring at the first flakes of snow,
smiles, and dreams of home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Life On Your Own
Winter is approaching
Theres snow upon the ground
Its good of you to visit me
Im glad you came around
I dont know how you found me
I didnt let you know
I only moved to this address
About a week ago
I guess you think I ran out
But thats not true
Other people settle down
I never do
I always have to move on
Just have to go
Ive often wondered why that is
Id like to say but I just dont know
I guess you always wanted
Life on your own
I guess you always wanted
Life on your own
Up here the summers shorter
And winters very cold
Im looking forward to the peace
My lonely life will hold
Im really glad you came here
Thank you for the talk
Its funny how my problem stopped
When we went for a walk
Standing here together
Means so much
I wont forget your confidence
I wont forget your touch
You know Ill come to see you
Passing through
Well always be a world apart
Ill travel on but I will be true
I guess you always wanted
Life on your own
I guess you always wanted
Life on your own
I guess you always wanted
Life on your own
I guess you always wanted
Life on your own
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chewing Gum
chewing gum
wondering where i've been and what i've done
wondering where i'll go and where i'll run
hide myself away from everyone
chewing gum
doesn't ['does it'] bother you that you're not the one
keeps you up at night in a fear of dream
to count the silver bullet of your misty
it's yours to keep
chewing gum
innocence lost in electric smiles
perfectly cast in desperate clouds ['colds']
loving with under
city lights
with all their {miles}
and all i need
is you
by my side
by my side
by my side
chewing gum
wondering where i've been and what i've done
wondering where i'll go and where i'll run
hide myself away from everyone
chewing gum
got myself a piece of
chewing gum
got myself a piece of
chewing gum
got myself a piece of
chewing gum
got myself a piece of
chewing gum
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Be Courteous
to be courteous
to this society where i live
i pocket my smile
i swallow my pride
you see me chewing a gum
and you order me
to swallow it
because you don't like seeing me
chewing this mint
i swallow it
in your name
and behave as though nothing happened
no i will not tell anybody
i will not tell about you or your name
i will not retaliate
i will just write
this poem
if you call this a poem at all
this shame
and this shamelessness of you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Guess Im Falling In Love
(reed, cale, morrison, tucker)
I got fever in my pocket
You know I gotta move
Hey babe, I guess Im falling in love
I got fever in my pocket
Down to my shoes
Oh babe, I guess Im falling in love
I got in my pocket, hey babe
Everything that I can have
Ive got thing in my ? loveline?
Its gonna work out fine
Its gonna be allright
I gotta move
You got yours on your side
Hey now babe, I guess Im falling in love
I got fever in my pocket
Down to my shoes
Oh babe, I guess Im falling in love
Youd better move it on sweet babe
Hey on down to your shoes
Things theyre right, mama
You know itll work out fine
Hey you gotta lose
Got hand in my pocket
You know it work also(? )
Oh babe, I guess Im falling in love
Ive got ankles in my breasts
I find its hard to lose
Oh babe, guess Im falling in love
Oh babe, guess Im falling in love
Oh babe, guess Im falling in love
song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gentlemen, I give you the Whittle engine.
quote by Frank Whittle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Many Reflectıons
Looking into a
mirror
reflections of
the past emerge.
A small girl
sits on her
fathers lap
he, reading and
teaching.
Two guys dressed
as cowboys
playing out the
cowboy scene.
A gent and his
lady
sits in the cool
of the evening
under the weeping
willow.
Children catching
fire flies
using them for
pretty rings.
Looking afar
into the distance
familiar images
before my eyes.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Days Whittled Away
Small becomes big, while huge is little, this as we mentally whittle,
Sorting many things in our mind, looking forward and also behind;
Pondering things, near and far, not content with things as they are,
Thinking beyond the here and now, we can slide into why and how.
Looking beyond all that we can see, thinking about what could be,
With our mind, overriding our heart, our flesh begins doing its part,
As temptations comes into play, trying to direct these feet of clay,
To stray from God’s said purpose, all provided by The Lord Jesus.
Some things in life may seem small, but, perception is not over all,
As personal wants cloud the view, of this life given to me and you;
While in our minds we may scheme; what we usually call our dream,
Almost appearing to be discontent, with the purpose, we were sent.
We then proceed, to whittle away, at that purpose, from day to day,
When we start wrestling in our mind, with daily issues of every kind,
As our eyes are taken off The Lord, His purpose, for us, is ignored.
Clouding, all that matters, in this life, as we stray from Jesus Christ.
But, God’s purpose doesn’t change, for our Lord remains the same,
Working through the life of everyone, who’s been called by His Son,
And so daily our focus needs to be, on Christ and things of Eternity,
As we live here, one day at a time, through a power which is sublime.
(Copyright ©08/2010)
Stories
Every year has its own stories in this life,
Every month has its own stories in this life,
Every week has its own stories in this life,
Every day has its own stories in this life,
Every hour has its own stories in this life,
Every minute has its own stories in this life,
And like the muse of the mind as we grow up;
So, we are all with stories to tell in this world.
As white as snow,
As red as blood,
As balck as charcoal,
As green as the grass,
As blue as the sky;
But everybody has stories to tell in this world!
And like the muse o love in the land of beauty,
For each year has its own story.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Cow
Down by the slipralls stands our cow
Chewing, chewing, chewing,
She does not care what folks out there
In the great, big world are doing.
She sees the small cloud-shadows pass
And green grass shining under.
If she does think, what does she think
About it all, I wonder?
She sees the swallows skimming by
Above the sweet young clover,
The light reeds swaying in the wind
And tall trees bending over.
Far down the track she hears the crack
of bullock-whips, and raving
Of angry men where, in the sun,
Her fellow-beasts are slaving.
Girls, we are told, can scratch and scold,
And boys will fight and wrangle,
And big, grown men, just now and then,
Fret o'er some fingle-fangle,
Vexing the earth with grief or mirth,
Longing, rejoicing, rueing -
But by the slipralls stands our cow,
Chewing.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Old Man
He sits quietly murmuring
Talking only to himself
His eyes sunken and dark
A look of tiredness across his face
His head is slightly bowed
Resting upon his hand
He sits alone in almost darkness
Except for a small table lamp
In the far corner of the room
There is little in the way of light
Old books gather dust
In piles around upon the floor
Those stories he once read
The worlds to which he escaped
Now stacked without order
Like memories becoming forgot
A glass of vintage wine
Held in his thin, bone like fingers
Softens his pallet, soothes his throat
While he sits alone each night
In quiet conversation with himself
Another old man growing grey
Wishing on yesterdays
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stories
Through every window, we look out
what we see on the other side
holds many stories waiting to unfold.
Stories of great achievements
within someone’s life.
Stories of gathering love
found with in open arms.
Stories of perusing heartaches
where someone has gone away.
Stories a million fold
that surround every living thing.
Stories we are not aware of,
but happen before our eyes.
Stories to share with all
from those who can see them unfold.
The next time you look out a window
try and see what is really there,
the stories that are everywhere.
26 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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I remember how my Great Uncle Jerry would sit on the porch and whittle all day long. Once he whittled me a toy boat out of a larger toy boat I had. It was almost as good as the first one, except now it had bumpy whittle marks all over it. And no paint, because he had whittled off the paint.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I Was A Child
when I was a child
so very small
so very young
so very long ago
I had a few
very small wishes
I wanted to
leave this world
a little better
than I found it
I wanted to
be less sinning
than I was
sinned against
I wanted to
give God a good
life witness
from my heart
I wanted to help
people not realizing
many wanted to help
themselves unjustly
very small wishes
so easy to perceive
in innocent childhood years
so hard to lifetime complete
I am glad I kept
my innocence
much longer
than most children
growing up today
I am glad I lived
in an age of values
less are proud to affirm
I am glad truth
was born in my heart
for it is truly better
to give than to receive
I am glad and I smile
because it is to some uncool
but I am still in many ways
that simple childish fool.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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This Is A Tough Game
As I scribble
On a small piece of my life's paper
I need courage and strength
To face the challenges
That test my spirit and mind
For my soul is burdened
And I feel drained out
And see myself wandering in wilderness
Passing through storms and fear
For life is a tough game
And I need to strengthen my faith
And have courage to open my mind's eye
To see divine plan unfolding in my life's path
With confidence and grace.........
I need peace and solace
To restore my balance
To lessen my heartache
And soul's burden
And enjoy the richness of small things in life
So I can heal quickly
And get the ability to move on
And enter the door of opportunity
Where God's tender love is present
To move on and on
For life is a tough game
And I need to strengthen my faith
And have courage to open my mind's eye
To see divine plan unfolding in my life's path
With confidence and grace.........
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Cabin on Loon Lake
INTERIOR kitchen of rustic cabin
in remote region of northern Michigan
wind howling snow swirling visible
through small window at left
Disheveled man sits at makeshift desk
sorting through stacks of paper
Angular woman leans against iron sink
smoking cigarette after cigarette
MAN> You use the checkbook?
Woman looks around room, smiling.
She gestures toward a cabinet against the wall.
WOMAN> There's some Wheaties in the cupboard.
Man looks startled as he rises to his feet
MAN> You know what I'm saying?
Woman stubs out cigarette in a chipped coffee cup.
She fishes out another from the pack in her shirt pocket.
Man comes around desk and hands her a folded sheet.
Woman unfolds paper and studies it.
WOMAN> This is just plain crazy.
Man turns to desk and unrolls a length of blueprint.
He smooths it and points at the center of the sheet.
WOMAN> I like it.
CURTAIN
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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All Alone
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
HER CHILDREN GROWN
WITH FAMILY OF THEIR OWN
SHE WONDERS WHAT HAPPEN
CHILDREN ALL OF THREE
THEY HAVE GROWN LIKE FRUIT UPON THE TREES
GRANDCHILDREN SHE HAS SIX
GETTING HARDER TO REMEMBER THEIR NAMES
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
NO ONE COMES TO VISIT
HER GRANDCHILDREN DOESN, T KNOW HER
HER CHILDREN HAS FORSAKEN HER
SHE WONDERS WHY
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
SHE LOVED HER CHILDREN DEARLY
WANTED NOTHING BUT THE BEST
WORKED HARD AND WENT WITHOUT
HER CHILDREN SHE WOULD DIE FOR
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
SHE WONDERS WHY
SHE THOUGHT THEY WOULD BE AROUND HER
LIKE ALL MOTHERS DO
GET TOGETHERS ON SUNDAYS
SEE A MOVIE OR TWO
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
SHE REEKS HER BRAIN
WONDERS WHAT DID SHE EVER DO
TO GET SUCH COLD TREATMENT
FROM THE BABIES SHE ONCE KNEW
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
THE ANGELS CAME AND CARRIED HER HOME
poem by Verna Ralph
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Love Is Better Than A Warm Trombone
*love is better than a warm trombone, when blown, softly by a two tone, brother
*down on luck by chance, caress her head off at the boogaloo trance
With his hands in his pocket he could not lie
With his hands in his pocket he began to cry
With his hands in his pocket he lowered his eye
*he said miss I guess I ought to apologise, Ive been fallin, Im falling down
The river of your lovelorn souls is getting deeper than the deepest dish washing bowl
*now brother get the dirt off your hands, its getting darker than a sun-chasers the sun tan
With his hands in his pockethe could not lie
With his hands in his pockethe began to cry
With his hands in his pockethe lowered his eyes
*he said miss, I guess I ought to apologise, Ive been fallin, Im falling down
With his hands in his pockethe began to cry
With his hands in his pockethe could not lie
With his hands in his pockethe lowered his eyes
*he said miss, I guess I ought to apologise, Ive been fallin, Im falling down
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chewing Gum (Fun Poem 46)
I enjoy chewing gum
it takes my mind off cigarettes,
but because I have false teeth.
(I lost the real ones years ago)
Chewing gum become like chewing super glue.
When it sticks, boy does it stick.
You stand in the bathroom
completely and utterly gummy
scraping the gum of your dentures.
So now, my motto is
if you have dentures
suck on a hard-boiled sweet,
they don’t stick to your teeth.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Algebra II Tests And Sunny Skies
He sits.
A calculator is set off to the side
As he furiously scribbles on the page in front of him,
Trying to finish.
There’s nothing but the buzz of fluorescent lights
In this classroom after school.
Paper shuffles and a breeze startles the blinds,
His concentration dissolving as they smack into the wall.
And he sits up again,
Concentrates,
Chewing a stick of gum quietly,
He focuses.
Thinks of his prison of parabolas,
He erases, then scribbles some more,
Finishing his test,
Wishing for naught more than the freedom of a soccer field.
poem by Melissa Nikolova
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Ten Pound Note
I was five when mam left us
But before she passed away
She gave me a ten pound note
For a coat on a rainy day
But there was no coat which could last
The rainy days I had to bear
So I lent my money to my brother
Who looked after me with care
My brother spent the money
Everywhere we went
On things I didn’t care about
Like camping in a tent
On bandages and soap
And fishing in the river
And chips when we were hungry
To warm a bellies shiver
He seemed to spend lots of money
I wanted my money back
I decided ten years later
For I never bought that mac
Brother where’s my money now
I loaned you long ago
For years you’ve spent it carelessly
But I still love you though
He was sad as he looked at me
Then he began to say
I promised mam not to leave you
Until your rainy day
Its time to buy that coat now
I’m leaving you today
You’ve grown to be a fine young man
But I must sail away
Your note has never left me
Its folded in my pocket
It sits so very tightly
In our mams silver locket
Its your turn to keep it now
Your note has kept us near
Goodbye my little brother
Let me wipe away your tear.